


Talkin‘ About A Revolution

by 50shadesofsubtext



Series: SPN AU and Trope Bingo [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Gen, Magic, Magic!AU, Magical Tattoos, Modern Magic, SPN AU Bingo, Tattoo Artist Dean, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:39:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50shadesofsubtext/pseuds/50shadesofsubtext
Summary: Castiel Novak was responsible for all the troubles in the magic community. There was only so much resistance Dean and his friends could put up. But maybe things aren't that simple after all.Fill for my SPN AU and Trope Bingo for the square magic!au.





	Talkin‘ About A Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Tracy Chapman’s song of the same name.

I was finishing Benny’s first sitting on his newest tattoo when the charm over the front door chimed.

 

“Be with you in a minute,” I yelled from the back room. I finished the basic shape of the sigil on Benny’s shoulder. This simple sigil would reduce his bloodlust, but once I added shading and color, he would be able to completely turn it off and help control the hunger of the rest of his nest. It was my most popular tattoo with the vampires.

 

I covered the shape in a healing salve that Charlie made and helped him stand. We walked to the front room together and stopped when we saw him.

 

He had two bodyguards in black suits and aviators flanking him. He stood just inside the door, completely still aside from his blue eyes bouncing from drawing to drawing on the wall. The bodyguards didn’t say anything. Benny and I looked at each other in question, and finally, he cleared his throat to break the silence. “I’ll see you next week?”

 

“Yeah, bring me some more of the…” I glanced at the man, “... stuff.”

 

Benny nodded and slipped around the men to reach for the door. When it shut behind him, I turned my attention back to the man.

 

I’d know him anywhere, any of us would. Blue eyes and dark hair that showed up on the TV and billboards nearly every night. He was bidding for another election, but I swore he was supposed to be on a campaign across the country, vying for popularity with the non-mages.

 

What the hell was Castiel Novak doing in my tattoo parlor?

 

“Can I help you?” I tried to keep a sneer out of my voice. He was the main reason we could do what we do, be in public, not hide from the non-mages anymore. He was the reason we were free.

 

The thing about freedom was that it meant something different for everyone.

 

Benny’s idea of freedom was not being controlled by his urges, working in hospitals to help diagnose patients just from their smell, saving people from lengthy and expensive diagnostics.

 

Sammy’s idea of freedom was helping represent the minorities in the communities, the werewolves and vampires being blamed for murders they didn’t commit, the underground spell and potion ingredient dealers that give huge discounts to families that didn’t have the money but had the need.

 

Charlie’s idea of freedom was running the coffee shop next door that not only had spells of luck and speed and intelligence in the drinks and baked goods but also provided the fastest internet in the city, giving hackers access to the digitized grimoires the government kept hidden.

 

Castiel’s idea of freedom meant putting down other people, other species, so that people like him could stay in control of the magic and who could use it.

 

My idea of freedom was staying away from dicks like Castiel.

 

Castiel stepped up to the counter and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I heard you are the best. I need this,” he tapped the paper onto the counter, “tattooed here,” he turned an arm over and tapped above his left wrist.  

 

I pulled the paper closer to me. I recognized the ancient Nordic symbols for invisibility and protection, but some other symbols looked vaguely Arabic, and they mostly covered concentric circles and a pattern I didn’t recognize. “You wanna tell me what this is?”

 

Castiel looked down and scraped at the dark fingernail polish on one of his nails. One of the bodyguards started to walk toward me, but Castiel spoke up. “You don’t need to know that. Can you do it or not?”

 

I huffed out in frustration and glared at the bodyguard, “You want to talk about ink, or you want to talk about my price?”

 

The bodyguard stepped to the counter and sat down a large vial of clear liquid along with a bag that clanked when it hit the counter.

 

“Invisible ink? How do you want me to use this invisible ink?” I had my ways, of course. I’d worked with invisible ink before, protection tattoos on people in abusive relationships, birth control for women married to incubus and succubus, but I wasn’t about to tell this to the bodyguard.

 

Castiel moved his hand to hover over it, making the ink glow a bright shade of blue. A smile played on my lips. That was cool.

 

Castiel outlined a little section on the paper, “Do this part in regular ink as well. Orange.” He traced the protection symbol I recognized.

 

I considered it for a minute. I didn’t do tattoos that I didn’t know the effects of. It was a rule of mine. Yet, as much as I didn’t want to spend another moment around Castiel, I wondered what he could do if I said no. Did he know about Sammy, about Charlie? Did he know that most of my clients paid with exchanges? I had too many items in the shop that could be confiscated, even more at home. More than the objects, I had spells and knowledge that I shouldn’t know.

 

Sensing my hesitation, the bodyguard opened the bag, and my eyes widened. There was a massive pile of dwarf gold. Enough that I would never have to work again if I didn’t want to. I let out a whistle and looked at the bodyguard with a smile. “You didn’t steal this from the dragon that lives down in the sewer, did you?”

 

Castiel finally looked up and smiled, “Where would you like me?”

 

I grabbed the bag and put it in the safe under the counter before grabbing the ink. I waved Castiel to the back room and sat him on the chair. He laid his arm on the table in front of him, and I moved to the other side of the table. I touched the cleansing sigil on the table to sterilize the equipment and rubbed the sanitizing liquid over Castiel’s arm before I put on gloves.

 

The liquid in the vial still glowed, and I attached it to the ink pen. I started slow and focused, laying out the background first. I tried small talk. “So, how’s your day?”

 

Castiel looked up from his wrist, curiosity arching his eyebrows. “Fine?” The way he said it like a question made me smile. I wasn’t sure why. “You?” he asked back.

 

“Well, you know, not every day I have someone like you sitting for me.”

 

“A warlock?”

 

I let out a chuckle, “Sure, a warlock.”

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“You mean besides all this? Not a thing.”

 

Castiel’s head cocked to the side in a question. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

 

We fell silent for a minute as I traced out the last circle. “Where did you find this thing anyway? One of your stolen grimoires?”

 

I meant it as a throwaway, but Castiel didn’t let it go. “What stolen grimoires?” he asked.

 

“Nothing, man, don’t worry about it.” Don’t worry about it like I worried about Charlie or Sammy getting drug out of their work and never seen or heard from again. Don’t worry about it like I worried about getting shut down, never seeing the people I loved again. There were worse things in this world, and I needed to learn to shut my mouth.

 

“No, I don’t know what you are talking about.” He raised his voice, “Brothers come in here.”

 

I put down my pen in panic. I shouldn’t have said anything. People weren’t supposed to know the government had been stealing grimoires from witches. “Look, I don’t want to start anything,” I said as the bodyguards moved into the room from their lookout positions.

 

“Dean,” Castiel said, “relax. We aren’t going to hurt you.”

 

The bodyguards stood on either side of me. “Brothers, Dean thinks we steal grimoires.” The men didn’t react. “Dean, what else have you heard about us?”

 

“Nothing, I swear, I don’t know anything. I shoot off my mouth when I’m nervous. I was just talking.” Please let me see my friends and family again.

 

Castiel stood and started tracing shapes on the drawing of the tattoo. “Invisibility, protection, stealth, calmness, healing, power, control, glamor, banishing. It has to be invisible. Dean, this tattoo is not for stealing grimoires.”

 

My mind raced. That was the most powerful combination I’d ever put together. “What is it for then?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

 

Castiel pointed to the bodyguards. “This is Gabriel and Balthazar. They are my brothers. They are here to protect me.”

 

“From non-mages.” It was the logical conclusion, but Castiel shook his head.

 

“Dean, don’t presume to know me. I never wanted the power I have. I only wanted to help people.”

 

“You’re doing a damn fine job.”

 

“I know you think I am the one in control, but everything you think you know about me is wrong. They made me the pawn in their game, and they are playing everyone against each other.”

 

“Who are they?”

 

“Our older brothers, Michael and Lucifer. They are turning people against each other, and if they are stealing from witches, then they must be deeper than we thought, trying to weaken the people that could stop them.”

 

“And you’re playing along?”

 

“No. That is what this tattoo is for. I’ve been trying to fight from the inside.”

 

This was more than I ever thought it could be. It made sense. It was horrible. “So all the talk about restrictions on the water nymphs and selkies and mermaids? And not allowing harpies or griffins or sphynx into the country? Taxing magical ingredients and spells?”

 

“They want people to turn against each other.”

 

“They’re working.”

 

Castiel nodded and sat down. “If you finish this for me, it will help me gain intelligence on them. And it will protect me if I am caught.”

 

I could do that. I nodded and sat down before turning to the bodyguards. “Charlie, next door at the coffee shop, tell her I sent you and I need to see her.”

 

The one that stayed closer to the door nodded and left. I picked up the pen again and worked faster, still aiming at perfection, but nothing more. Apparently, the fate of the country depended on it.

 

The charm over the door sounded again, and I heard Charlie’s voice, “Dean?”

 

The footsteps behind me and the sharp intake of breath that meant she saw Castiel. I didn’t take his eyes off my work and said, “Explain it to her.”

 

I focused past the talking behind me, working fast. I finished the larger tattoo before changing out the pen for orange. Orange for success, for no fear, for energy, for memory.

 

It suited him.

 

I traced the part Castiel wanted me to and then told the man to show me the entire thing again, making sure all the lines were solid, straight where they should be and round everywhere else. It was technically perfect if not with my usual style.

 

Charlie gushed about how she knew there was something more going on. She offered her skills, her knowledge, and contacts, and Castiel thanked her. I put Charlie’s salve on Castiel’s arm, and Castiel turned to look at us. “I did not want to drag you into this—”

 

“Try and stop us” Charlie muttered under her breath.

 

“—But now that you are on board, there is something you need to see.” He pulled out another piece of paper and scribbled on it, handing it to me. “Be there at 10 o’clock tonight.”

 

We nodded, and Castiel thanked us again. He left before I even realized Gabriel and Balthazar didn’t say a single word.

 

* * *

 

I wanted to bring Sam and Benny, but we also wanted Castiel to trust us enough to show us whatever it was he wanted to show us. The door opened before we could knock and one of the bodyguards stood inside. I didn’t know which was which. The hallway inside was covered with plants and flowers, only some of which I recognized. Gemstones lined the bottom of the corridor, amethysts and sapphires and opals as big as my head.

 

He led us into a room off the corridor where Castiel stood over a table with his other brother. A cat curled up on the back of a couch, and I wondered if it was one of their familiars. Castiel moved a star chart off the table, and I saw similar ones on the walls around the room. A large cabinet stood open in the corner of the room filled with mismatched jars. A second table stood next to it with alchemy equipment. Webbed bags hung from the ceiling, some with plants and others filled with gemstones.

 

Sammy would love this place, and a look at Charlie’s face told me she could stay here forever.

 

Castiel called us over to the table and pulled up charts, plans laid out in more detail I realized we would need. Castiel caught the surprise in my eye and his hand laid on top of mine. “If we are going to take down the government, we have to do it right. No winging it.”

 

"Let's do this," I said with a grin.


End file.
